


Dreamscape

by Night_Wind



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 12:15:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14976977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Night_Wind/pseuds/Night_Wind
Summary: Let me sleep. My dreams are when I'm alive. Memories of before everything went to hell.Normally I write the whole story before publishing it. I've run into a giant brick of writer's block and figured feedback might help me push through. Constructive criticism only please.





	1. Chapter 1

        She moved as lightning, catching the falling flowers in her wicker basket. Golden hair flowed, briefly resting at her shoulders before moving again. Dark jeans, white sneakers, and black tank top blurred as she ran. I watched from under one of the cherry trees. I'd always wondered why she insisted on catching them. Dusk was falling on the orchard. Rolling hills as far as the eye could see caught the dying orange-gold rays. I turned away from her and began walking toward our cabin. It was a simple wooden building with two bedrooms. One for ma and pa, one for Anita and me. I'd shared the room with her since birth. No one could tell who was older. I was taller by a head, as was typical for a brother. However, she looked more mature and was wise beyond her years.  
        Jogging up the steps of the porch, I passed pa cleaning out his briar pipe in our rocking chair. Ma refused to let him smoke in the house. She always said that the home was sacred. I never quite understood. The scent of basil, oregano, and other spices greeted me as I opened the heavy oak door. Ma was setting plates of boiled potatoes, sliced raw carrots, and sliced beef roast that had been in the crockpot all day on the cherry-wood table. I slipped off my black converses by the door on an orange beach towel that was folded in half. I sock-skated past ma, pecking her cheek before continuing down the hallway to the bathroom.  
        I stopped at the threshold and decided to walk normally. Unlike vinyl, tile wasn’t easy to slide on. With _my_ luck, I’d probably catch the grout and faceplant. Ma and I prided ourselves in keeping the house spotless, but I’d rather not have my face next to the foot of the toilet. I lifted the seat and did my business, meanwhile tracing the cyan vine-like floral patterns on the pastel blue wall with my eyes. I finished, put the seat back down (I wouldn’t hear the end of it from Anita if I didn’t), and turned to the sink. The cabinet underneath was made of beech wood and was topped with white marble.  
        I bent a bit to wash my hands. I shook off the excess and reached for the navy hand towel, pulling it from the silvery wall ring. As I dried my hands, I looked into the tall frameless oval mirror. I inherited a mix of ma’s ivory and pa’s golden skin. My eyes were green-grey like ma’s and my hair was wavy and black like pa’s, evenly cut at my jaw. I decided to pull it back for dinner. I replaced the towel and left.  
        I got to the table and everyone else was waiting there. Pa must have come in while I was in the bathroom. I apologized for holding them up and sat. We all dug in. It was amazing. So much better than the school food, even though she worked as a lunch lady there. Pa worked as a stockbroker in the nearby city. I wasn’t sure how they met. It didn’t matter to me. I was just glad they did. I couldn’t ask for better parents.  
        As we each finished eating, we waited for the others to finish before we got up and rinsed our plates. I gathered the cooking utensils, the inner lining of the crockpot, and the pot used for the potatoes. I stacked everything on the counter while I drew the wash water. Anita snatched the washcloth from the wall separating the sinks and wiped down the table and counters. She grinned and tossed it back to me. I caught it and began washing. I heard her moving the chairs behind me then the broom moving over the floor. I drained the water and grabbed a dish towel from a drawer to the left of the sink.  
        As I started drying the dishes, Anita nudged me and I moved to my left a bit so she could sweep where I was standing. I stacked similar dishes together before putting them away. I looked up and saw her putting the broom in the broom closet. We smiled and high-fived, walking toward the hallway. When we got to the mouth, she said she had to pee. We hugged and I continued to our room.  
        When we turned eleven, pa hung a large lime green sheet to act as a partition. My half was on the right. We kept the walls sepia as we got older. I guess it never felt right to change it. I also thought it went well with the off-white shag carpet.  
        Her side was covered in all sorts of movie posters, particularly from the late 80’s and early 90’s. She got her love of movies from ma. They’d stay up late into the night watching just about anything. She seemed to particularly like action and drama films, a couple of her favorites being _Bloodsport_ and _Good Morning_ Vietnam.  
        She always kept an extra pair of sneakers in her room. She was an avid runner, so she went through a pair every four months or so. She spent all of her time after school running. She was on the cross country team. She was in every running event she could apply to. I never understood how anyone could like running. It made her happy though, and that was what mattered.  
        My bed was one of those beds that had drawers in the bottom. Ma and pa got that frame for me and gave my dresser to Anita when I asked for a desk. I put it under the window so I could use sunlight when working on my watercolor paintings or sketches. It was a dark wood. I wasn’t sure of what type.  
        There were two drawers in it to the right of where I’d sit. I used the top one for my pencils, paints, and paper. I kept my brushes bristles up in one of our many, many mason jars on the left side of the desk. I had an empty second one for my paint water next to it. I used the lid for the clean water to wet the paints. My favorite things to draw and paint were cityscapes and country roads.  
        I climbed into my bed. It was full sized with yellow sheets to match my drapes. My forest green comforter was folded at the foot of my bed as it was mid-spring. I twiddled on my phone for half an hour, made sure my alarm was set for the next morning and put it on my nightstand. I turned over and closed my eyes, not looking forward to midterms


	2. Chapter 2

I open my eyes. I am on my back. Dark. I blink to clear my eyes of sleep dust. I roll off the mattress onto the floor, standing to leave the tiny room. My head spins. I vaguely wonder how long I was asleep this time. In the dark hallway, I pass the door to the greenhouse. From the smell, the poppies are still blooming.

    I make it to the bathroom and flip the switch, the light stabbing my eyes. The seat is already up. I try to piss and not much comes out. I haven’t been able to shit for a while so I don’t try. I turn to the sink and nearly fall into it, it’s so close. I groggily wash my hands, focusing on them as if they are the most interesting thing in the world. I don’t dare look into the smudged mirror. I’m not proud of what I’ve become. I dry my hands on my boxers and leave.

    I stumble through the living room and into the kitchen/dining room. I don’t feel hungry or thirsty but the voice in the back of my head says I should be. The room is illuminated by the light over the gas stove. I glance at the microwave. The clock reads 2:27. I open the fridge and squint into the light. The guys apparently had takeout earlier. I shrug and grab the paper box. They once told me to just take whatever food looked good. I really don’t care at the moment. I grab a spoon from the dish drainer and wolf down the rice and kung-pao chicken.

I rinse the spoon and toss the box into the overflowing trash can. I decide to tie it up and set it next to the doorway. I don’t have the energy nor the desire to take care of their mess. When I say mess, I mean the little bit of dishes, the full trash can, unswept floor. It’s just little bits to be expected from two men who work full-time. It would have never flown at home. I shake my head, pushing back a flashback. I grab a glass and fill it. I chug that and leave it on the counter, rushing back to my room.

Halfway there, I stop. I would be a poor roommate if I didn’t somewhat help. With a heavy sigh, I trudge back to the kitchen. I reach under the sink to grab a trash bag and put it in the can. I grab a dish towel and a washcloth. I empty the right sink of dishes and fill it with hot soapy water. While it’s filling, I put away the silverware and two plates in the drainer. Then I scour the living room for other dishes, being as quiet as possible to not disturb my light-sleeping friends. Finding none, I return to the kitchen.

The sink is nearly full so I turn off the tap and start putting the dishes in. With only two glasses, a mug, four plates, four forks, and a few pots and pans, it doesn’t take long. It feels like an eternity, though. The whole while, I’m deeply focusing and blinking back tears. I rinse each one under the tap and put them in the drainer.

I drain the water and wipe down the counters, sink, and table. I wring out the washcloth and lay it over the little wall between the sinks. I dry the dishes and put them away. I take the broom from beside the refrigerator and sweep. I look at the time as I put it away. It’s 2:49. Johnathan will be up soon. His husband will be up by 5. A dull ache’s started between my eyes. I grab one of the glasses I put away and fill it. I down it then rinse, dry, and put it back.

I go back to my room. It smells of body odor and piss. I’ll have to change the sheets when I wake up again. I grab my pipe and light it. I sigh. I’ve been doing this too long. After a few minutes of puffing, I feel a familiar drowsiness and extinguish my pipe. My consciousness melds into the darkness surrounding me

-.-.-.-.-

I was in a stuffy suit. Why did Anita choose to get married in  _July_  of all months? We were packed like sardines in the tiny church. My parents, ma's father, her sister accompanied by her husband and three children, and what seemed like all of pa's extended family. At least half of them flew from Puerto Rico. Only the groom's parents attended. Appearantly they drove from Oregon. There were about forty people in all. Why they chose such a small church was beyond me. My guess was that the maximum capacity for the sanctuary was thirty.

I wasn't paying any attention to the ceremony. It couldn't have taken more than thirty minutes but it felt like an eternity. It was so  _hot_. If it could, I think my skin would have been melting.

There was food being set up outside. Even though the ceremony would be done, the celebration would probably last until dawn. I loved Anita and all, but I just couldn't be around so many people for that long.

As everyone started pouring out the doors, I was wishing I could eat a bit then skedaddle. I knew that pa wouldn't let me though.


End file.
